Nobody's Fault But Mine
by mysticsilver86
Summary: The boys are forced to stop at a motel and find unexpected trouble. **Possible Spoilers for 4.01 in Ch. 4 and 5**
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable--not mine. Anything not recognizable but already been done--also not mine. Any mistakes--not...wait, those are mine, sorry.

A/N: Strangely enough, after watching last night's episode I had to put a spoiler warning on a story that's been written for months. If only the freaking second chapter hadn't taken so long to write.

* * *

It was stifling, the heat and humidity had been plaguing them for hours. The only slight reprieve was from the constant wind created by the open windows of the moving Impala.

Suddenly the car stopped and the driver side door opened. Sam lazily rolled his head in his brother's direction to ask about the offending non-motion, when the sound of liquid hitting asphalt got him moving.

"Dean?" Sam climbed out of the car just in time to see Dean throw up again. "Are you ok? Never mind. Hold on." He leaned into the backseat area of the Impala and grabbed one of the bottles of water he'd thrown back there after a rare stop in a "town" that was large enough to have a Wal-Mart. He scoured his memories from the past few hours, days, weeks as he tried to remember anything to give him a reason for his brother's sudden illness. As he was handing the bottle of water to Dean, a memory hit him between the eyes.

High temperatures had always had an adverse effect on Dean. Usually, the causes were the high fevers he was prone to during the rare times he was sick and since they had spent most summers up north when they were younger, it wasn't until Dean was a senior in high school that Sam had made the connection. Apparently, their father had figured it out and he would either ban Dean from hunts in hot climates or John would force him to take whatever migraine prescriptions he managed to get from some of his contacts. It was one of the few things that Sam and his father had agreed on while he was growing up. Sam wanted to slap himself for not remembering sooner. He also wanted to smack Dean for being so freaking stubborn and not stopping at that motel 20 miles back, but he figured his brother didn't need any added discomfort.

Shuffling Dean towards the passenger's seat, Sam situated his nauseated sibling before hustling to the driver's side. Hurriedly, he turned the car around and headed back towards the Jupiter Inn.

***

What should have been a twenty minute drive turned into a forty minute drive due to frequent stops to accommodate Dean's unsettled stomach. Sam gave a small sigh when the sign for the Jupiter Inn finally came into view and he quickly pulled into the parking lot and parked as near as possible to the check-in office.

Sam groaned inwardly when he saw that the door to the office was standing open. An open door in this heat meant no AC and no AC meant that this situation wouldn't be improving anytime soon. He hoped that in this case it only meant that the AC was only not working in the office and that the rooms were practically glacial. He knew it was slightly selfish, but at this point he was simply hoping that someone, anyone would throw him a bone.

"I'm gonna go get a room. You gonna be okay out here a little longer?"

Receiving nothing more than a grunt from Dean as an answer, Sam climbed out of the Impala. Closing the car door, he walked a couple of feet to the door of the office and stepped inside. Immediately, he made note of the fact the he was correct in the assumption that there was no air conditioning in the office. He also noted the sparse furnishings and the rather bored-looking elderly attendant.

"You want a room or directions?" The attendant's vivid blue eyes seemed to belie his obvious age as he watched Sam approach the counter.

"A room. Do you take credit cards?"

"Sorry, the reader's broken. The new one won't come in 'till next week."

"Alright," Sam sighed as he pulled out his wallet. "The rooms are air conditioned though, right?" he asked concerned that he may have to force Dean to endure even more time in the heat if he had to look for another motel in what was apparently no-man's land.

"Oh, yeah, the AC in the rooms it works fine. The AC in here's just finicky, is all. That's what the fans are for." He pointed around the space at the various fans. "Is your friend coming in here? It's awfully hot to be sitting out there in that black car. You want a double right?"

"Yeah, a double. You wouldn't happen to have any rooms with a kitchenette, would you?"

"Actually, we do have one available. It'll cost a bit extra."

"How much?" Sam asked as he began removing bills from his wallet.

"Sixty-five a night."

Sam winced as he heard the sounds of Dean being sick once again.

"Is he alright?" The desk clerk asked with a look mixed between concern and disgust.

"Migraine," Sam replied as he handed the man what little cash he had. Hopefully, Dean had more since he hadn't seen any places to "earn" extra.

"Room 28. Check out's at ten." the silver-haired man said as he handed Sam the key.

"Thanks."

Hastily, Sam left the humid office and practically sprinted back to his brother and saw that Dean had managed to get out of the Impala and was presently leaning, head bowed, against the black beast.

"Hey, I got us a room, c'mon." Sam said softly as he maneuvered his big brother towards the front of the car. After getting his brother back into the car Sam climbed inside. Once again, he pushed the open bottle of water at Dean.

"Drink."

Dean gave an incredulous raise of an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that. Dehydration, you know the drill." Starting the Impala, Sam moved it to a parking space closer to their motel room. Quickly, he removed Dean from the car and ushered him into the room where he immediately deposited him in the bathroom. He then made a trip back to Dean's baby to bring in their stuff. As he brought in their gear, he claimed the bed next to the room's door, leaving the one closest to the bathroom for his ailing brother. Finally, he placed the first aid kit on his bed and took out the medicine that would hopefully knock this migraine out of Dean, eventually. The sooner he got the pills into his brother, the better.

Making his way back to his brother, he started in on reprimanding his stubborn sibling.

"I know you wanted to make it to Dothan by nightfall, Dean, but you had to have realized you were getting sick. This whole trying to be macho crap only made things worse. If you'd just pulled over the first time we were here, you probably wouldn't be about to pray to the porcelain god right now."

"Sam, either shoot me or shut up." Dean half growled, half groaned from his position in the bathroom.

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Dean, but if you're a good boy, I'll give you a present."

"Is it a gun?"

Sam chuckled softly. "No," he said as he held out the migraine pills.

Dean blanched. "I'd rather have a gun."

"Just take 'em, Dean"

"Dude, no. I'm having trouble keeping nothing down, what makes you think I'm gonna be able to hold those down?"

Sam sighed and turned to the sink. Grabbing a plastic cup, he filled it with tap water before squatting next to Dean. "Here," he said, pushing the water and pills at his brother.

"Sam, what part of 'no' don't you understand? Seriously, I'm this close," he illustrated with his forefinger and thumb, "to hurling again. And the thought of swallowing anything is not helping."

Looking at his brother, Sam realized just how much Dean was struggling with his stomach and mentally declared his stupidity for not grabbing the anti-nausea meds from the first aid kit before trying to force the migraine pills into Dean. Standing up, he walked out of the bathroom, picked up his phone and dialed, waiting for the other party to pick up as he searched for the Anzemet and needles in the oversized kit.

"Singer," a gruff voice answered after the second ring.

"Hey, Bobby, uh, we're not gonna be able to make it to Dothan on schedule." Sam plunged into the conversation only faltering slightly as he heard the sounds of sickness once more from the bathroom. "Is there anyone else that can take the hunt?"

"Is that your brother I hear, Sam? Let me guess, heat migraine, right? Damn it, I forgot how hot the summers are in Alabama. Why the hell didn't he get out of the heat sooner?"

"You know Dean, Bobby. He's always fine until he keels over unconscious." Sam straightened, antiemetic and needle in hand, and placed the first aid kit on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Yeah, well, I'll find someone to take the hunt. You just take care of that idjit brother of yours. Ya'll should probably stick to traveling at night, at least until you get to a cooler part of the States. I'd better start making some calls, Sam. You boys let me know if you need anything, ya hear?"

"We will, Bobby. Thanks."

Sam tossed his phone onto his bed before he walked back into the bathroom, this time prepared to combat his brother's nausea first. Kneeling next to the sick man, Sam showed him the medicine and proceeded to fill the syringe with the appropriate dosage.

"This should start working in about 20 minutes. We'll try the migraine pills after this kicks in, okay?"

"I don't care if you want to slow dance, as long as that stuff keeps me from trying to hork up my intestines."

Sam gave a small smile before he injected the medication. He too hoped that the shot would work. His family had realized a long time ago that something about Dean's body chemistry seemed to have a mind of its own and even though it may have reacted optimally with certain medication at one point didn't guarantee consistent results. In fact, there were times when it would actually cause his brother's symptoms to worsen. Sam could only hope that, for his brother's sake as well as his own, it wouldn't be the latter.

Regardless, judging from Dean's current condition, it was going to be a long couple of days.

* * *

A/N: This is not my fault. I blame L-annethunder. So you should too.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometime around three am, after a long night of dealing with Dean, Sam fell asleep only to find himself waking up at seven in the morning because his brain subconsciously reminded him that they'd only paid for one night. With check out in a couple of hours, he needed to find some more cash fast.

Which meant waking Dean.

Right.

It wasn't that Sam didn't know where Dean could have put extra cash. In fact, he knew all too well the many places it could be and had no definite way to narrow down the possibilities. It could be anywhere from one of the newer hidden compartments that Dean had put in the Impala after its introduction to that semi's grill, to somewhere in one of their duffels. Which meant it could take Sam five seconds to find the money or five hours. With less than three hours to check out, that wasn't something he wanted to chance. Getting put out of the room, if only for 20 minutes, could cause some problems. Sam knew that, despite the medicine, it wouldn't take much for his brother to relapse. That was one experience he hoped to avoid.

After lying in bed for thirty more minutes, Sam sighed before he removed his tired body from its warm cocoon and commanded his lower limbs to take its counter parts to wake his slumbering brother.

"Dean, wake up." Bending over slightly, he lightly shook his older brother.

"Sammy?" Bleary eyes opened to find Sam's. "We leavin?"

"Not yet. I just need to know where you put the extra cash."

"Oh. It's, uh, it's in your bag. Computer bag, right inner pocket, I think."

"Inner pocket? Dean, there's no inner pocket in my computer bag."

"Yeah, there is. I put it there three weeks ago. Never know when you'll need the extra space." He said, his voice trailing off as he was clearly drifting back to sleep.

"Yeah, right."

Okay so maybe he didn't know all the places his bother could hide things. Smiling ruefully, Sam shook his head and stood up straight. He never would have thought to even check the carrying case for his laptop. Going over to his stuff, Sam quickly found the hidden pocket, now that he knew it was there, and pulled out only enough cash for another night in the room and some food, leaving the rest where it was.

Now that he had the money, Sam set the alarm on his phone to wake him in an hour and quickly went back to sleep.

An hour later, Sam awoke to the sounds of his alarm going off. Hurriedly he silenced it, hoping that it hadn't disturbed Dean. Upon realizing that his brother was still sleeping soundly, Sam once again left his warm bed. After gathering some clothes and quietly walking into the bathroom, he showered quickly.

Emerging from the bathroom clean, dressed, and slightly more awake, Sam grabbed the money he'd set out earlier and the car keys before moving towards the snoozing form on the other bed.

"Hey Dean, I'm gonna go pay for another night and look for something to eat. Try to get some more sleep, okay?"

"I would if you'd quit waking me up every five minutes." Dean muttered, turning to face away from Sam.

"Yeah, well, you're the one who'd freak out if I didn't tell you where I was going. I'll be back in forty."

Opening the door to their room, Sam was immediately hit by an intense wave of heat. Stepping outside and closing the door behind him, Sam decided that the sooner he secured their current accommodations for future use, well at least the next twelve hours, the better. There was no way he was going to let Dean walk into this heat. Just the thought of the problems that would entail was enough to give _Sam_ a headache.

_Or maybe it's the combination of the heat and lack of food._ Sam thought as his stomach growled.

As Sam crossed the parking lot, he was reminded of the old Westerns he and Dean would usually watch while their dad was away. The visible waves of heat being emitted from the sea of black asphalt were not unlike those portrayed in the desert-like locations where the West was won.

He could feel beads of sweat forming at his hair line by the time he'd made the relatively short trip to the check in office. Giving only a slight pause at the closed door, Sam entered the now cool space intent on extending their claim on the room.

"Hello?"

There seemed to be no one manning the desk, but Sam was certain that he had seen someone's silhouette in the window as he was crossing the lot.

"Be with you in a second." A voice rang out form the room behind the counter.

Sam recognized it as that of the clerk from the day before. He hoped that whatever the guy was doing back there, he would be quick about it. He'd only allotted himself forty minutes and the sooner he could get this room thing handled, the more time he'd have to get food.

A few moments later, Sam was greeted with the sight of the grey-haired clerk.

"You and your friend ready to check out?"

"Actually, my brother and I need to stay a little longer and I wanted to pay for an extra day."

As he spoke, Sam felt as if there was something different about the clerk. It was the same feeling you get when a friend gets a hair cut similar to their original cut—you know something has changed, but you can't put your finger on it. The fleeting thought was driven out of his mind as the clerk spoke again.

The clerk's piercing eyes lit up at the prospect of more business.

"Only one extra day?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "Your brother seemed fairly ill, perhaps you should stay longer."

Sam was certain that the man wasn't actually worried about Dean's health, but it did sound like a good idea. However, he wasn't sure if he could sell his brother on it as well.

"No, I think we'll just stay the one extra night."

"I assume you want the same room?"

"Yes. Sixty-five, right?" Sam had already taken as much from his wallet and handed the money to the clerk.

"Okay, checkout's at ten. Enjoy your stay."

Uttering a quick 'thank you', Sam exited the room and once again crossed the black sea of heat, this time headed towards the Impala. Climbing into the car turned oven, Sam rolled down the windows before starting the engine. Pulling out of the parking lot, he contemplated where he should go for food. There had been a few small, convenience-style stores minutes away from their motel, but Sam hadn't seen any larger stores that would be reachable in the time he'd feel comfortable leaving Dean to his own devices. Knowing his brother, Dean would some how find his way outside, probably looking for him despite their brief conversation. With any luck Dean would stay asleep long enough for Sam to buy some food and get back to their room.

He drove to the nearest open store, only five minutes from the motel. It wasn't Wal-Mart, wasn't even a 7-11, but it would do. Or at least he hoped it would. He only needed a few things, basically anything that would be easy on Dean's stomach and enough of it to feed them both. It would be simpler and faster to do so than to shop for separate meals and Sam definitely wouldn't mind a change from the grease laden food that was their normal fare. Luckily, he found everything he needed in a few short minutes and even grabbed a couple of peaches before going over to the register to pay.

"It's mighty early for someone to be on the road, isn't it?"

"I guess. You get used to it." Sam shrugged as he thought of all the times he had been dragged onto the highway before two a.m. by various hunts. Now _that_ was early—or late depending on how you looked at it.

The cashier looked over his groceries before she started to ring up his purchase.

"Are you visiting someone?"

"No, why?"

"Oh, well, it's just that usually most people are just passing through unless they're visiting family or friends. I just assumed that since you're buying all of this, you were running an errand for someone, but you know what they say about when you assume." Brushing her chestnut hair from her face, she continued, "Sorry if I seem nosy, my brain doesn't really have a filter when it comes to asking questions."

"Oh, it's fine. I'm just used to people assuming that I'm passing through."

"Well, if you don't mind my asking, why are you buying all of this food? I mean, wouldn't it be easier to just stop somewhere and get take-out or something? Most of this stuff has to be prepared. It's hardly fit for the road." Once again she fidgeted and gave a hesitant smile. "Sorry, my mom always warned me about curiosity killing that cat, but I could never get my mouth to listen."

"It's okay. Actually my brother and I had to make an unexpected pit stop. I figured I could force something healthier into him while we're here."

A little color leached from the cashier's face and she stopped ringing up his items.

"You're staying here?"

"Yeah, we checked into the Jupiter Inn yesterday." As Sam finished his sentence, the cashier paled even more.

"Which room are you in?"

"Why?"

"Oh, you know, small towns have their superstitious tales about pretty much everything. I know it's silly, but even at my age it's hard to ignore them. Like I said, I think of a question and my mouth takes it and runs. Sorry." She gave a forced laugh, but the worry still shone clearly in her eyes.

"It's not haunted is it?" Sam asked in a slightly teasing tone. Despite his life, it was still an ice breaking question.

"Haunted?" This time her laugh was genuine. "No, it's not haunted. Not unless you mean haunted by the living."

The ice didn't exactly shatter, but it did fracture a bit. His instincts were still calling for him to erase that fear from her angelic face, and Sam found himself offering her what he hoped would give her some peace of mind.

"We're staying in room 28."

Sam felt the tension in his body begin to abate as he watched the worry diminish in her eyes. However, he could see that his words hadn't completely lifted the veil of fear. Suddenly her expression changed.

"I am so rude. Here I am asking you all of these questions and I haven't even introduced myself. My name's Sarai."

"Sam."

There was a moment of silence as Sarai resumed ringing up his purchase.

"So, unexpected stop, healthy foods, I'm guessing your brother's sick. Nothing too serious I hope?"

"No, not really. It's a pretty easy fix."

She looked at him knowingly, "I'm betting that's not the problem, is it? You know, I've heard that forced bed rest is the best remedy." Sarai ended with a grin.

Sam smiled back. "Yeah, well, I have to get him to actually listen to me first."

"I take it he's your older brother?"

"It's like that fact is ingrained in his DNA."

"Well if he's anything like my big brother, this is a good bargaining chip." She tossed a pack of M&M'S® to Sam with a smirk. "Your total's twenty-five thirty-six. See ya around Sam. Get your brother well alright?"

***

The strange and unexpected conversation with Sarai had caused his trip to last longer than he wanted. Luckily, Dean was still asleep.

"I thought you said forty minutes."

Or not.

Sam turned towards his brother.

"Sorry, bro. Ran into some car troubles." He slightly stressed the 'ran into' part. He knew he wasn't being nice but he was, after all, the younger brother and stressing big brother was what he did best.

Dean sat up so fast, it made Sam dizzy.

"What do you mean 'ran into'?"

Sam placed the food on the table and held up his hands to placate his brother.

"Kidding. I'm kidding. I just got side tracked at the store."

"Not funny, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"So, you hungry? I got light stuff, wasn't really looking forward to a repeat of yesterday."

"You're not the only one." Dean grumbled before answering the question. "Nah, I'm good. Maybe when I'm fully awake."

Ok, that was clearly Dean-speak for 'I don't think my stomach's ready for food'.

"Stomach still bothering you?"

"Yeah, I don't feel like I'm about to hurl but I don't really want to test it so…"

It was one of the few things Dean would ever admit with out Sam having to pull teeth just to get an answer.

Sam watched Dean lay back on his bed, draping an arm over his eyes. So the sensitivity was still there as well. Dean would never really ask, so Sam simply walked over to the window and pulled down the shade behind the curtains effectively blocking out the excess sunlight.

"You're still feeling it, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'm not taking any more of those pills though. I don't want to sleep all day."

This was actually normal for Dean. If it were anyone else, Sam would probably be worried about the possibility of a cold or virus in addition to the migraine, but the nausea and sensitivity, mainly the nausea, always seemed to linger with his brother. Going back to the med kit, he grabbed the Compazine pills and some Advil. He contemplated getting something stronger, but he knew Dean wouldn't go for it. He had to pick his battles, and that just wasn't going to be one of them. Yet.

Looking at his ailing sibling, Sam figured that staying put for a few extra days would be good for Dean, even if being stuck in a room with his antsy brother would only serve to drive Sam crazy. It was what stubborn jerk needed, and he wasn't going to let Dean con his way out of it. Besides, he had a weird feeling about this place and the inquisitive hunter in him wanted to figure out what it meant.

Sam once again found himself making the trek across the parking lot to the check-in office. Expecting to see the previous clerk, Sam was surprised to see an elderly woman behind the desk. Since he hadn't seen any new cars in the parking lot, he guessed that she must be related to the man he'd met earlier.

As he approached the desk, the woman smiled. Like the man, her eyes seemed far younger than her obvious age.

"Hi, are you looking for a room?"

"Actually, I already have a room and I was hoping to extend my time in it."

"Oh, okay. What room are you in?" She asked as she flipped the pages in the registration book.

"28."

Stopping on a page, a puzzled expression settled on her face.

"I'm sorry, that room isn't supposed to be available."

"What? We stayed in it last night and we booked it for tonight as well."

"There are plenty of other rooms available, I don't know why he gave you that one. Unless…Did you ask for anything special?"

"I asked for a kitchenette, if that's what you mean."

She smiled. "Well, that explains it then. My husband must've confused your room with the room we just renovated." With a small chuckle she continued, "It's a good thing you came in just now, that would have been quite the rude awakening with the renovation crews arriving at seven tomorrow morning."

Flipping to a previous page, she looked up at Sam.

"I can move you to that room. Due to the inconvenience, you'll get a thirty percent discount on the rest of your stay, including today. How many more days were you planning on staying?"

"Uh, I guess two more days."

Retrieving a small calculator from a desk drawer, she totaled the cost.

"Okay, so with the discount and subtracting what you've already paid, that'll be seventy-one fifty."

Sam handed the clerk the money in exchange for the new room key.

"You can move in now, if you'd like."

"Actually, if we could wait until later? I don't want to put my brother in this heat. Maybe after nightfall, if that's okay?"

Her smile softened.

"Of course, I wasn't trying to rush you, dear. My husband did say something about someone being sick the other day, is it your brother?"

Sam nodded in reply.

"Well, in any case, you're welcome to wait as long as you need. You can return the other keys in the morning."

Thanking the woman graciously, Sam exited the office for the umpteenth time that day. As he made his way back to room their current room, Sam decided that it would be best if he waited to tell Dean about the room change, otherwise Dean might insist on moving now just to get it over with. Sam preferred not provoking a grumpy Dean any more than he already had. Dean could get rather ornery when he wanted to.

Upon arriving back at their room, Sam began repacking the few things that had managed to be dispersed through out the room during their short stay. Once that small task was complete, he set about preparing lunch. Even if Dean wasn't hungry Sam was and maybe he could force something into his brother once the pills kicked in.

He grabbed a can of soup and went over to the kitchenette. It was just regular chicken noodle soup. Nothing fancy but it was Dean's favorite, and Sam hoped that would help entice his brother to eat once he was finished.

Minutes later the soup was ready and Sam set out two bowls with crackers and juice on the side.

"Dean, come eat your soup."

"I'm not hungry, I'll eat later."

"Dean, it is later. You haven't eaten since yesterday and I'm pretty sure that whatever you did eat you lost and then some. Get over here."

Dean reluctantly moved towards the table.

"What is it?"

"Like you have to ask."

Dean smiled and sat down. The soup was downed in record time.

"If I'd known you were that hungry, I would have made double."

"If I'd known, I would have told you to."

Dean walked back to his bed, plopping down and turning on the TV.

"Think anything good's on?"

"Doubt it."

Sam pulled out his laptop and listened to Dean flip through the channels.

***

Four hours later, Sam found himself getting more and more distracted by his brother's increasingly uncomfortable state. Pain lines had begun etching themselves onto Dean's face, clearly announcing that the Advil hadn't been strong enough. Of course, Dean would never admit to pain, just wasn't the Winchester way.

Sam calmly reached down for his current best friend, pulling out a different set of migraine pills. If anyone ever looked inside their first aid kit, they'd swear both the brothers were junkies. Then again, if they ever found all of their weapons they'd just swear Dean and Sam were demented.

"Dean, take these. Don't argue. Don't hide them. Just swallow them."

Surprisingly, Dean said nothing which only confirmed Sam's suspicions about the pain.

After Dean swallowed the meds, Sam convinced him to take a quick shower to help relax some of the tension away. He'd read somewhere that it was supposed to help.

Thirty minutes later, the shortest shower Dean had ever managed, Sam was slightly anxious about dealing with an antsy brother. If the pills had already started working, then his brother wouldn't be feeling any pain which would mean Dean would want to go or at least get out of the room. That was a battle that Sam would have to choose and win. And that would only result in an even more irritable sibling.

Dean exited the bathroom clad in clothes Sam had given him as he'd maneuvered him into the bathroom. Sam felt himself relax even as a small frown settled on his face as he watched Dean make a bee line towards the bed. Apparently, those migraine pills had been strong enough and were causing Dean to do exactly what he hadn't wanted to do.

After watching his brother for a few moments, Sam began taking their bags out to the Impala in preparation for the move in a couple of hours. He left a few things in the room just in case they were needed.

Now all there was left to do was to wait.

***

The sun hadn't been down long, it was only eight o'clock, but Sam figured that if he didn't hurry, Dean would be out for the night and the cycle would start over in the morning. The plus side was that Dean's sleep muddled brain wouldn't care about the fact that they were staying extra nights.

"Dean, wake up. We have to switch rooms."

"What? Why?"

"Workers are coming tomorrow, c'mon."

Sam grabbed the last few things before he guided his brother to the car. The short trip to the other side of the motel was just short enough that Dean didn't have time to go back to sleep before Sam was ushering him into their new room.

Getting his slightly befuddled brother settled, Sam could see why their previous room was being remodeled. This room had a more relaxed vibe. It was cozy, yet functional and Sam found himself feeling more at ease than he had in the other room. It was definitely a more welcoming room.

He went back to the car to grab the last of their gear. As he locked the trunk, he looked up to see the female clerk and her husband exiting the office.

"You boys make the change alright?"

"Yes ma'am. Just getting the last few things now."

"Alright, well you have a good night, Sam."

"You too."

Sam walked back into the room, shutting the door and putting their gear in the closet.

It had been a long day. He guessed he was going to follow big brother's lead.

Turning off the lights, Sam climbed into to bed, fully intent on getting at least 8 hours of sleep. He doubted it would work but it was worth a try.

Just as he reached the cusp of sleep, a fleeting thought snapped him into complete wakefulness.

She had called him 'Sam'.

He'd never given them his name.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I would just like to thank K Hanna Korosy, Sinful Temptation, Cadillac Girl, Ghostwriter, suzijacuzi, and guardian music angel for their reviews. Hope you like chapter three!

* * *

From the moment he'd realized that the clerks knew more about him than he'd actually told them, which freaked him out more than he cared to admit, Sam had begun exhausting all his resources to find out as much as he could about his current location. He'd even gone as far as to call Bobby, which hadn't really gone over well with the elder hunter. He kept asking why Sam had waited until 'O'dark thirty' to call him about, of all places, Prattville, Alabama. With no information forthcoming from Bobby, Sam had gotten back on his laptop in search of anything remotely different about the county and motel.

That's were sunrise found him—barely awake, staring at the piles of nothing he'd found on the Jupiter Inn and its owners, past or present.

"Dude, did you sleep at all last night?"

Sam jumped at the unexpected sound of his brother's voice.

"Holy…"

A smirk appeared on Dean's face as Sam worked on forcing his heart back behind his rib cage.

"Don't sneak up on me like that! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I wasn't exactly being quiet you know." Dean gestured at the room. "I think I tripped over every piece of furniture in here."

That had Sam on his feet instantly.

"Dean, if you're dizzy you shouldn't be up."

"Quit being such a mother hen, Sammy. I'm not dizzy, just half asleep."

As if to prove his point, Dean knocked into the table as he turned towards the bathroom.

"Nothin a shower and coffee won't fix."

Sam followed behind his brother as he made his way across the room, only pausing when Dean came to a stop at the bathroom's entrance.

"Sam."

"Dean."

Dean's expression clearly showed that he was not amused.

Sam's reflected the sentiment.

"You're so not coming in here with me."

"Wasn't plannin on it." Sam's voice drawled wryly.

"Well, now that that's settled, why don't you go get us something to eat. Ooh, and some coffee. Hey, do you think they serve pie this early anywhere?"

"I'm not going anywhere until you come out of there."

Dean stared at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"Whatever man, you just stay on this side of the door."

"You just keep your feet on the floor."

Dean glared at him a moment before he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Not even ten minutes had passed when Sam heard a loud thump come from the bathroom.

"Dean!"

His hand was inches from the knob when his brother's voice rang out from behind the door.

"Feet still on the floor, Sam."

His brother would be the death of him yet.

"Save me some hot water, jerk!"

Sam sighed and sat on Dean's bed and waited for his stubborn sibling to finish his shower.

An hour and a half later, found Sam considerably more awake. An ice cold shower does that to a person.

"Well princess, now that you're all fresh as a daisy, let's go get some coffee."

"Bite me."

"Sorry, Sammy, not my type. Let's go."

That thing about picking battles? Yeah, this was definitely one of them.

"You're not getting any coffee, and you're definitely not going anywhere."

" Dude, I'm not staying here. I've been in this room, well not this room, but I've been cooped up in this motel for the past—what, three days? I'm fine now."

Sam gave his brother a look of pure disbelief.

"Ok, so maybe I'm not a hundred percent, but staying here is gonna drive me crazy."

"Dean, it's like a hundred degrees out there. Do you want to relapse?"

He could practically hear Dean's thought process as he stared at his brother—_Stay here or migraine. Would it be worth it? Hmm…maybe._

Sam glared.

_Maybe not._

"Fine Sam, I'll stay in the cage, but I want coffee."

Sam let Dean give the car keys before he responded.

"You're not getting coffee Dean, why not some…"

"You say tea and I'll shoot you."

Sam opened the door. "It's good for you."

"And it won't be with rock salt."

"Green tea, full of antioxidants, you'll love it." He threw over his shoulder, quickly shutting the door before Dean could actually reach him or their weapons.

Chuckling to himself, he climbed into the Impala.

He was going to have a serious fight on his hands once Dean found out that they were slated to stay a couple more days, but Sam figured he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

***

Once again, Sam pulled into the small space in front of Sarai's store. After his previous shopping trip, he knew where almost everything was that he needed and since it wasn't a big store it didn't take long for him to find the rest.

As he approached, Sarai smiled at him from behind the register.

"Good morning, Sam. You heading out?"

Sam shook his head.

"No, I didn't think Dean would be ready to leave today so I booked a few more days. Although, I don't know if I can get him to actually stay in the room."

The rhythm she'd formed in ringing up his items faltered for a second.

"You're staying longer? Same room, though, right? 28?"

"No, we couldn't stay in that room, something about it being renovated. Actually, our room is closer to the check in office. By the way, I was wondering—do you know anything about the owners?"

Sometime between the words renovated and office being spoken, Sarai had stopped totaling his purchase completely.

"Sam, you can't stay in that room. You have to leave."

"Sarai, we've already paid for the room. We're not leaving until the end of the week."

Sarai's face broadcasted alarm, but the words she spoke next held no fear.

"Get out."

"Excuse me?" Confused, Sam thought he'd misheard.

"Get. Out."

"Did I say something wrong?"

She said nothing more, but made a shooing motion with her hand.

"You have to at least tell me what I did."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

Well, Sam knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with this type of argument. If nothing else, Jess had taught him that if necessary a woman could bring down the entire legal system with no better logic than 'I don't _have_ to answer anything'.

"Fine, whatever. I'll just pay for the food."

"Leave it Sam, and get out of my store." She walked around the counter towards Sam.

"You can't…"

"I can refuse service to anyone." She led him to the entrance, practically throwing him out the door. "You get your brother and get out of my county. I don't want to see you in my store again."

With that she shut the door in his face, glaring at him through the glass as he retreated to the Impala.

***

Well that was randomly awkward. He had no idea of what had happened, except that he was no longer welcome in that store. He was just going to have to find something to eat elsewhere, but first…

_I'll check on Dean as soon as I get home._

The word clamped the brakes on his thoughts so quickly that he almost drove off the road. Since when did he consider some random motel room to be home? The Impala was home. This was where he grew up. This was where his best and worst memories were. This was home, so why was it now that every time he thought of the word, his mind produced an image of a room he'd only been in for one day?

Arriving quickly at the motel, Sam parked and climbed out of the Impala. He approached the door to the room, key in hand.

Inserting the key in the lock, he tried to open the door only to find that the key wouldn't turn. Sam checked to make sure that he had the correct key since he'd yet to return the keys from the previous room. He knew it needed to be done, but he was still suspicious of the clerks and hadn't wanted to interact with them until he had more information about them and the Jupiter Inn.

Seeing that the number on the key matched the one on the door, Sam tried to unlock the door once more with no success. Resigning to the fact that it wasn't going to work and remembering that he'd left the lock picking tools in his bag, Sam knocked.

"Dean, open the door, my key isn't working."

There was no answer and Sam felt an immediate swell of apprehension. Trying to stay calm, Sam knocked again hoping his brother would answer a second calling.

"Dean? Open the door, man."

Still nothing. This time Sam pounded on the door as hard as he could without actually breaking it.

"Dean? Dean, let me in!"

The door swung open abruptly.

"Dude, what's with all the banging?"

His relief in seeing that Dean was alright was quickly replaced by annoyance. Sam rolled his eyes as he pushed past his brother into the room.

"Well, if you'd opened the door sooner, I wouldn't have had to practically break it down to get your attention."

"I was in the bathroom, Sam."

"Oh, sorry."

"Dude, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Sam lied, "I just, I thought that maybe your migraine had come back and I know first hand how debilitating those can be. I was just trying to make sure you were alright."

"You thought that my migraine had come back?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"You thought that the thing that causes extreme sensitivity to pretty much everything, including sound, had come back so you decided that beating on the door like a possessed linebacker was a good idea?"

Sam winced.

Truth was he wasn't sure why he'd panicked. Maybe it was just the strange events from earlier mixed with a lack of sleep.

"Guess I wasn't thinking straight." Sam looked at the floor as the continuation of the half lie rolled off of his lips. He hoped that Dean would just dismiss the whole thing because he knew that his brother could be very tenacious when it came to certain things and Sam had never been able to keep up a lie once Dean had even the slightest suspicions.

Surprisingly Dean said nothing about his obvious fib. Wary of the silence, Sam looked up in time to see his brother sway slightly before latching his hands on the table in an apparent effort to stay standing. Instantly, Sam was at Dean's side.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

There was a beat of frantic silence before Dean responded.

"Actually, I'm kinda tired. Think I'm gonna go lay down for awhile."

"Are you sure?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I'm good. Just need some sleep. Wake me up for lunch."

Sam followed closely behind his brother, making sure he didn't hit the floor in the short distance from the table to his bed. He watched worriedly as his brother settled into the bed. What was going on here? Sam couldn't remember a time that Dean had willingly taken a nap without being concussed first. Even then he didn't exactly volunteer to do so and usually fought hard to stay awake, tired or not. Dean had only been awake for two hours tops before Sam had left and since he'd only been gone for at most an hour, Sam couldn't bring himself to believe that his brother had managed to tire himself out so quickly. Sure the migraine had screwed with his system, but usually at this point Dean was practically crawling the walls after being forced to bottle all of his energy while he was confined to bed-rest. So it didn't make sense that his brother was now snoring softly at ten in the morning. Although now that he thought about it, he was feeling sort of tired as well.

_Maybe a nap isn't such a bad idea._ Sam thought as he made his way to his bed.

_I'll just rest my eyes for a second. _It was the last thing to cross Sam's mind just before he succumbed to the impending slumber.

***

Four hours later, Sam was startled awake by the sounds of frantic knocking at the door. Sam glanced at the clock as he scrambled out of bed and was momentarily stunned to see that he had slept through lunch. He hadn't realized he was that tired. Shaking off the shock, Sam opened the door only to once again be stunned by the person at the door.

"I thought I told you to leave."

"Nice to see you too, Sarai."

She shouldered past Sam into the room, before turning around to face him.

"I've been polite until now, but"

"Excuse me? Last time I checked, being polite didn't include barging into someone's home uninvited. And that's ignoring the rude awakening." A tide of anger washed over Sam as he continued. "Not to mention how you practically threw me out of your store earlier. You don't want me in your store and now you want us to leave our home? What, is our money not good enough for you?" His tirade was far from being over, but he was interrupted as Sarai spoke.

"Sam," she said slowly as she stepped towards him, "this isn't your home. This is a motel room."

Her words were like a sudden ice bath, freezing his anger in its tracks. It had happened again. What the hell?

Scrubbing his face, he sat on the edge of his bed.

"That's what I meant, our motel room." His words came out subdued as his mind tried to process what was going on.

"You've only been in this room for one day, right?" Sarai's question drifted over him.

Sam didn't answer, instead he stood up not wanting to become comfortable with Sarai in the room. Something wasn't right and she was a part of it, his instincts were screaming it.

Sam watched as Sarai glanced around the room and saw her eyes land on Dean who was somehow still asleep. Actually, that was rather odd, his brother normally being a light sleeper and all.

Sam was broken out of his thoughts when Sarai spoke again.

"How long has he been asleep?"

"Okay, the prying was only cute the first time, knock it off."

"No, Sam, really think about it. How long has he been asleep?"

"About four hours, why?"

"Are you sure?" She asked as she moved over to Dean's bed.

Moving with her, Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her away from his brother. He didn't trust her enough to let her near him. Not to mention that if Dean awoke to a stranger standing over him, female or not, it wouldn't be pretty.

Sarai whipped around to face Sam, "You said something about me waking you, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Sam replied unable to see where this line of questioning was headed.

"How long were you asleep?"

"About as long as Dean." What little patience he had with her was once again vanishing fast. "Look Sarai, I don't know why you're interested in our sleeping habits, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He continued as he led her to the door, "Actually, I'm glad you woke me. I was supposed to have fixed Dean something to eat hours ago, and I should probably wake him."

An expression Sam couldn't quite decipher flashed across Sarai's face.

"Why don't we just go pick up something? I know it'll be about a thirty minute drive, but we can take my car."

If there was such a thing as situational whiplash, Sam was certain he'd just experienced it. Sarai's attitude had executed an unexpected about face. Only a few moments earlier she was trying to get rid of them, now she wants to take him to get food?

Unsure of her new attitude, Sam latched on to the first available excuse.

"Dean's still under the weather. Even if I thought it was doable, if he wakes up while I'm gone…"

"Come on Sam, he'll probably be asleep for another two hours anyway. Besides, if he does wake up it's not like you guys don't have cell phones. Right? Okay then, it's settled."

***

After being propelled out of his room by someone half his size, Sam found himself in what under normal circumstances could only be classified as an awkward start to a date. Five minutes had already passed in complete silence. There was no music and Sarai hadn't said anything to him since before she'd manhandled him into the passenger's seat.

But Sam was still wondering what had made her change her mind about him and Dean staying in Prattville. He knew the only way to find out would be to start talking again.

"So, where are we going?"

Receiving nothing in reply, Sam turned more towards Sarai and repeated his question.

Sarai's eyes flitted over to him before reverting back to staring at the road and yet she still said nothing. She was ignoring him.

"Sarai."

Her fingers gripped the steering wheel harder as she bit her lip.

Narrowing his eyes, Sam repeated himself slowly. "Where. Are. We. Going."

Still nothing.

Sam had had enough. "Pull over."

"Sam…"

"Oh now you want to say something? Just stop the car. Let me out and I'll freaking walk back to the inn." He reached to undo his seatbelt.

"I can't let you do that Sam."

Sam's hand stilled. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but you can't go back to the inn. I'm taking you as far away from there as possible." Her next words, though seemingly spoken for her benefit only, chilled him to the core. "It was too late for your brother but I can still save you."

In the time it took for his mind to catch up with his body, Sam realized that he'd already unsheathed the knife he always kept on him. He controlled the urge to threaten her because he wasn't sure how she would react. Maybe he could get her to give him enough information to make him see whatever it was that he'd apparently missed.

"Sarai, what do you mean it's too late for Dean?"

She seemed startled that he'd heard her. "I…he, it's a really long story Sam. Maybe it'll be best to wait until we find a place to stop."

"Here is fine."

"Sam, I don't think…"

Sam just couldn't seem to hold onto his patience around her. He was tired of the sharing of information being one sided. Sam wanted answers, yesterday.

"You know what, why don't you just _answer_ _the_ _question?!_"

Sarai jumped at the volume of his voice. Any other time he would have felt guilty for startling her, but at the moment his brother was in trouble and she was withholding pertinent information about just how much trouble that was. Pleasantries were thrown out the window at this point.

Sarai didn't pull over, but she did slow down noticeably.

Sighing heavily, she spoke.

"It's too late for your brother because he's already completely under the enchantments' influence. It's why he was asleep for so long and probably why he didn't wake up while I was there."

"Enchantment? There's a spell on the inn? What kind?"

"Enchantments, plural. And not the inn, on certain rooms. Their strength depends on the location of the room the strongest of which is the room you moved to."

Subconsciously, her right hand went to a loose lock of her hair. Taking a deep breath and twirling the lock around her fingers as she continued.

"The first spell makes you comfortable, relaxed. It's why you called it home. That's the only room that has that particular spell. Something to do with the position of the moon, sun, and some stars or whatever. The second, basically it puts the victim in a coma. Well not really a coma, but its close enough. The person won't wake up, but I don't completely understand the spell so I don't know how it works exactly. I guess you could call it a deep sleep, but you can wake up from that so maybe coma is the best way to describe it."

She was rambling now and Sam needed to get her back on track.

"The last spell, what kind is it? I mean, the incantation has to have a counter to it right? Maybe if I could read it, or"

"No, it doesn't. It's in Aramaic, and basically it says that it can only be broken by God. Even if you could translate it, there's nothing you can do."

Sam narrowed his eyes as another thought entered his mind.

"And you know all of this how?"

Her face hardened.

"I just do, okay? Besides, what does it matter how I know what I know? The only thing you need to know is that you were next and that now you're not."

"You know who's behind this and you're protecting them." Sam spat the accusation out of clenched teeth. He didn't have time for this.

"Protecting them?!" She shrilled incredulously. "I'm pra—hoping that no one finds out I even met you."

Her eyes linger on his face despite the fact that the car was still moving.

"I rather like my life, thank you."

Turning back to the road she muttered to herself. "I just had to try to be a good Samaritan, didn't I?"

"We have to go back."

"What? No!"

"I understand you're trying to help, but my brother is still at that motel. I have to get him out of there."

"Absolutely not. Did you not hear anything I just said?"

"Take me back."

"No, Sam. There's nothing you can do for your brother and I'm not letting you walk into the lion's den!"

"Sarai, either you take me back or I take myself back. Those are your only choices." His grip on the knife tightened. He wouldn't harm her with it, but at the moment he had no qualms with threatening her with it.

"Make the choice or I'll make it for you." he said, the warning clear in his voice.

She glared straight ahead, both hands going to the wheel.

"Fine, but it's your funeral."

The u-turn Sarai executed would have made Dean smile.

Sarai had dropped Sam off seconds from the motel saying something about not sticking around to watch him get himself killed. Not that it mattered, he had no intention of being the one to die tonight.

Pausing at the edge of the property, Sam considered crossing the parking lot. It would be the fastest and shortest path to his brother, but tactically speaking it would make him an open target. Especially since it had all of three cars in it. Why the ­hell was it so damn big anyway? No one was ever parked in it, at least that he'd seen and he doubted they ever got much of a crowd unless there was some sort of natural disaster.

Sam found his mind wandering as he ninja'd his way behind the buildings. It shouldn't have been so hard for him to keep his mind on the task at hand, but he figured that was part of the reason he was in this situation in the first place. Sarai's explanation had left much to be desired and he wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he had the gist of it. Evil entities—check. Evil base of operations—check. Brother threatened by said evil entities at evil base of operations—check. Really it was all he needed to know.

Having finally made his way to the section housing his room, Sam quickly glanced at his surroundings. Assured that no one had seen him, he turned his attention to the door pulling out his key in preparation of entering the room.

A whisper of a breeze brushed his neck, and the world faded to nothing.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know. This chapter was kinda all over the place. I just couldn't find a way to smooth it out without making it wordier (it's a word, shut up) than it already is. I've stared at this chapter for a week. It felt off, but I don't know.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: First it was school and my internal debate about eye color. Then it was my desire to make this non-spoilery, which meant rewriting. That was then sidelined by school again and then I threw the rewrite idea out the window because 1) I'm too lazy for that, 2) the chapters were written long before I realized that Kripke & Co. and I were thinking on similar, parallel wave lengths, and 3) I'm too lazy for that. Although, I did decide to chop some inane dialogue. Then when I finally decided to post, went wonky and my jumpdrive committed partial suicide and I had to take it apart to get my stuff back. All in all, it basically boils down to me not updating for almost five freaking months, for which I do apologize. So here's chapter 4. Enjoy.

A/N: I want to thank IheartSam7, ChaiGrl, guardian music angel and angeleyenc for their reviews. Oh and l-annethunder since she's the reason this was written anyway.

* * *

Sam jerked awake.

_Where?_

Disoriented, he tried to get his bearings. His eyes roamed around the room as his mind played catch up with his body. As he visually explored the space, Sam found himself slightly confused.

For once, he didn't seem to be in some grimy makeshift lair. In fact, it looked more like an office than anything else. There were very few unnecessary items in the room, actually somewhat of a minimalist approach to decorating. It was disconcerting to find himself in a place like this. Usually there were at least a few items in whatever place he found himself in that would at least give him some clue about what was to be expected. Crude looking knives or other outdated medical instruments?—probably something dealing with a lot of pain. Chains?—he'd be in for a decent amount of alone time intermingled with sporadic threats and delusions of grandeur. There was almost always something, anything that was relatively out of place, to give him some inkling about what was to come. To give him time to prepare as much mentally and physically as possible for his captors to make themselves known. If it weren't for the fact that he still needed to rescue his brother, Sam wasn't sure if he would have been anxious enough about his predicament to even try to formulate an escape plan. The lack of foreboding items in his presence just weren't leading to the inspiration he needed. Although, now that he thought about it, those gods back in Michigan didn't exactly put him and Dean in a dungeon either. They did have a dungeonesque basement, but that was beside the point. If it weren't for the fact that he'd seen their true faces, the entirely too merry atmosphere of their home would have thrown him for a loop.

Sam groaned softly.

He hoped that he wasn't dealing with a pair of gods again. Once was quite enough, thank you.

Sam's befuddled mind found its way back to the fact that he was, at the moment, still trapped. He tried to move his arms only to find that the task was impossible. Focusing more on his body, he realized that not only was he in a standing position, but his bindings weren't physical. Well, maybe that wasn't the right way to describe them. Obviously, they were physical, but they weren't actually visible which meant that an escape was now slightly more complicated.

There were a variety of things that he knew of with the ability to restrain someone without using some sort of tangible means, but most of those were rare, even for him, and Sam had already compiled a short inventory of the possible suspects.

Ghosts had already been removed from the list as he was pretty sure he knew who his captors were and they'd shown none of the distinctive incorporeal tendencies of spirits. Besides, if what Sarai said was correct, he was pretty sure ghosts didn't need spells.

Witches used spells but that didn't count mainly because they apparently got their powers from a source that was already a prime suspect.

The fact that he wasn't pushed against a wall, but instead bound in the middle of the room was fairly new, yet it didn't really detract from his working theory.

It had to be demonic. He _hoped_ it was demonic. Demons were familiar. Demons he could deal with. Gods?—not so much.

Okay, so maybe not everything fit the typical demonic pattern Sam was used to, but then again it's not like every hunt was the same either. In fact, not a single hunt was ever a textbook case when it came to the Winchesters. They always managed to find the more hostile, more unexplainable, more difficult to solve hunts. It was somewhat surprising that they'd lasted as long as they had. Winchester luck, it seemed, was a double edged sword.

So, yeah, Sam was sure it wasn't witches.

Ninety-nine percent sure.

And maybe witches got their powers from demons, but the lack of out-and-out killings led him to believe that it was definitely, possibly not witches.

Sam shook his head in an effort to clear the current fogginess from his mind that was causing his thought process to do the whole 'stream of consciousness' thing. It wasn't exactly helpful. He needed to be sharp if he was going to get out of here and get to his brother. Once again Sam scanned the room, this time looking for blind spots and quick exits. He may not be able to move at the moment, but when that escape window opened Sam was going to need a way out of here.

Gradually, Sam realized that he could hear the faint sounds of approaching footsteps. A realization that was quickly followed by his vision graying, which was just as rapidly followed by panic. He'd been fighting the darkness that was encroaching on the edges of his vision since he'd regained consciousness, but it began to push back stronger than he could reciprocate. Sam knew freaking out wasn't going to help, but any rational response was sidelined by the fact that passing out was something he could not afford. He needed to find a way out of here. He needed to get to Dean. He needed to…

Consciousness fled him once more.

***

The next time consciousness crashed into Sam, he awoke to an audience.

"Maros, dear, I believe our guest is awake."

The motel owners were leaning side by side against the wall with an ease contradictory to their age. It was almost like watching one of those movies where a twenty-something is playing a ninety year old. Despite the efforts of the special effects make-up crew and the talents of the actor, there was always something that gave it away. There was always something off. With these two, it was as if they were too healthy. Like they had found the secret to longevity.

Or simply, like they were possessed.

The woman pushed off the wall and made her way over to Sam.

"Sam Winchester." She slowly walked around him as the old man continued to stand against the wall, watching.

As she moved, Sam was given the distinct impression of a lioness circling her prey. Why did he always end up being the hunted?

She stopped circling and her eyes locked onto Sam's.

"We've heard a lot about you, haven't we, Dear?"

Sam's gaze shifted. A small sound of affirmation was the only answer as the man stared at him in a way that Sam would swear with his dying breath wasn't creepy in anyway. Not at all.

Distracted by the unsettling gaze, Sam didn't hear the following question directed at him.

Ice cold fingers ghosted down the side of his face and traveled along his jaw line, bringing his attention back to the woman.

"It's rude to not speak when spoken to, Samuel."

Jerking his head away from the chilling touch, Sam glared at the motherly tone.

"Where's my brother?"

"Dean? Oh, he's right where you left him. Resting. Comfortably."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure whatever you're doing to him is real nice."

The woman quirked her lips. "I wouldn't say nice, but he can't feel anything."

"How would you know what he feels?" Sam challenged.

"You know, actually I don't." She paused as a sudden smile lit her face. "But maybe you can tell me. You'll find out soon enough."

Sam watched her walk back towards her husband as his eyes grew heavy and he slid back into the darkness.

***

The third time Sam regained consciousness, the world took longer to come into focus.

Sam groaned.

_Is it just me, or am I more tired than before?_

"Are you back with us, Samuel?"

Obviously a rhetorical question, Sam remained silent. He was kind of hoping the couple would switch it up and have Maros do some interrogating. Give Sam a chance to feel out both of his captors. Besides, the woman's voice was starting to grate his nerves.

"Normally, we'd leave you asleep, but you've piqued my curiosity. Tell me, what does it feel like?"

Sam sighed in irritation. "Could you be more specific? 'Cuz I gotta tell ya, the main thing I feel right now is annoyed."

"Oh, don't be petulant, Samuel. You know exactly what I mean. Now tell us, how does it feel?"

Involuntarily, Sam found himself executing a mental inventory of his body. Other than the lingering tiredness, he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.

"It feels…like nothing. Guess your enchantment didn't work on me."

"No, it's working. I can feel it. Can't you dear?"

The lights flickered as the old man's eyes momentarily left Sam to focus on his wife. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped and Sam found himself once again under the watchful and eerie gaze of the elderly man.

Glancing at the lights, she gave a small chuckle.

"I'll take that as a yes. Sorry, Maros, I didn't mean to distract you."

The man, or whatever the hell he was said nothing and Sam realized that he wasn't watching so much as concentrating.

He controlled the invisible force holding him in place.

_Maybe I can find a way to distract him…Better yet, I'll exorcise both of them._

Sam considered the notion. Maybe with them gone the spells would be broken or reversed. But which exorcism would work on these things? They definitely didn't seem like your average demons. Hopefully, they weren't at the same pay grade as yellow eyes.

Although, the old lady definitely had Azazel's whole invasion-of-personal-space thing down pat.

Sam suppressed a shiver caused by the warmth of her breath as she spoke in his ear.

"Trying to come up with an escape plan, Sam?" Softly, she laughed, "This is a lot more fun than I expected. Think all you want. It's fruitless, but I won't stop you."

Needing to divert Elle's attention, Sam decided now was as good time as any to ask about what was going on in this motel, starting with his and Dean's current predicament.

"Actually, I was still thinking about those spells of yours. If they were actually working, shouldn't I feel something?"

"Samuel, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't be running this little experiment, now would we?"

Even as his mind raced through every memorized exorcism, Sam carried the conversation.

"It could be subtle. Maybe if you tell me what they're meant to do, I'll know what to look for."

"Subtle." The tip of her tongue darted across her bottom lip. "You could be right. But subtle isn't fun, I was hoping for more pain."

Pain.

Right.

Why was he not surprised?

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Sam continued.

"Who knows, my brother and I could probably help you find a different way."

"Help?" She hissed. "Your kind has helped enough. You filthy little primates are the reason we're in this situation anyway. We were just fine until you came along."

Okay, apparently he had hit a nerve. As Elle continued to rant about whatever it was 'his kind' was responsible for, Sam could only ask himself why he and Dean always found the insane baddies. Sometimes Sam wondered if he and his brother walked around with signs on their foreheads stating 'If you're crazy or insane, these guys will give you a good time'. Seriously, because there was really no other way to explain the amount of crazy they'd come in contact with over the years.

***

The next half an hour was like the equivalent of listening to a hormonal teenager raging about how life was unfair due to a slightly early curfew. Not only was the curfew being blamed on 'his kind', but they were also responsible for everything else that had gone wrong in his captors' past.

Despite the divergent logical tendencies of the rant, Sam had managed to cipher out some of the details about what exactly Dean and Sam had gotten into.

As Sarai had described, there were two spells on Dean. However, what she'd failed to mention was that the last one wasn't meant to put the affected to sleep. That was just a side effect the captors didn't bother to counter. The only reason Sam was awake was due to an additional spell. But the aforementioned spell was the important one. The real purpose of the enchantment was to extract the victim's soul. Something about using it to cleanse them with a side bonus of prolonging their lives. Apparently, it was an arduous task to properly accomplish and any number of things could cause the soul to be useless. Like, for instance, letting the victim die before the soul was completely removed.

From what he could gather from the chaotic rambling, the spell took a few hours to a day to take hold and an additional four or five days to remove the soul in top condition. Anything less risked the soul taking some of its earthly body, anything more risked a host that died, soul still in place. Either scenario resulting in a worthless soul.

As her rant began to dwindle, Sam noticed that the old woman tended to play with his hair when she talked. Yes, _his_ hair. Honestly, he didn't want to know, but it was enough to make him consider taking Dean up on his offer to cut it.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Sam was starting to think that she'd forgotten that his hair wasn't hers.

_At least she stopped talking. _

Using the quiet time, Sam decided to use the very first exorcism he'd ever memorized. His father had taught it to him in the form of a song to the tune of _Frère Jacques__. _It had sounded awkward and required multiple verses, but he'd soaked it up. It wasn't until he was older that he had realized the significance of the song and why his father told him to sing it whenever strangers came to the door.

Abruptly, the woman's hand stilled in his hair before she moved away from him and walked towards her husband. "Dear, from now on we should have a live one, at least once a month. It's much more entertaining this way."

"Don't you agree, Samuel?"

"Go to hell."

"And leave you here all alone? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Screw you, bitch."

Sam glared menacingly as he mentally winced. He was really going to have to work on not channeling Dean in these situations.

A childish giggle sprang from her lips. "Come now, Sam. Don't be crude. You can call me Elle."

If looks could kill, the woman would have become a smoking pile of ash. Unfortunately, Elle seemed completely unfazed by Sam's glower.

"We're all going to be together for quite sometime. Well, Dean longer than you, since you're awake, but we could at least be friendly, can't we?"

_Friendly? Alright, enough of this crap._

End the caster, end the spell.

"Sorry to disappoint, but the vacation is over. I'm sending you home."

Closing his eyes, Sam began the exorcism.

"Exsurgat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus: et fugiant qui oderunt eum a facie ejus. Sicut deficit fumus, deficiant: sicut fluit cera a facie ignis, sic pereant peccatores a facie Dei."

Sam opened his eyes as the laughter that had begun when he started the exorcism didn't end after his recitation.

"Samuel, you slay me." Elle smirked. "Well, not literally. It's going to take more than a little Latin to get rid of me. Your little exorcism won't work. This is God's magic, and no one else's. So long as I am protected by him, you have no power over me. Nothing you recite will send me anywhere."

It must have been a Winchester thing, but he just wasn't capable of bowing out of a fight.

"Yeah, well, maybe this one will."

Sam had never tried this particular exorcism before and he wasn't quite sure what the exact effects it would have. It wasn't your typical exorcism and while his research showed that it didn't work one hundred percent of the time, when it did work it was majorly powerful. It spoke more of invoking a warrior of God than of removing foreign entities, which wasn't really something he wanted to get into but he was running out of options.

"Princeps gloriosissime cælestis militiæ, sancte Michaël Archangele, defende nos prælio et colluctatione…"

The fear in her eyes was quickly obscured by the back of Elle's hand connecting with Sam's face.

"Foolish boy." She spat, her voice now completely void of humor. "You're wasting your time and mine." Eyes glaring into Sam's, she called over her shoulder. "I think it's safe to say we can speed up the process, right _Dear_?"

As the world faded once again, Sam faintly heard a frantically asked question.

"Did I stop it soon enough?"

***

Sam's frustrations grew exponentially as he reemerged from the dark abyss.

Damn it. He was tired of being put under like some overly sensitive anesthesia recipient. He was tired of being stuck in this room and he was tired of listening to his crazy, and apparently non-demonic, captor.

The captor whose face was currently millimeters from his own.

"I should tear your soul from you right now."

A huff of laughter rushed out of Sam. "Go ahead, rip it out. It'll be imprinted and useless to you. That is what you said isn't it? You can't use an imprinted soul."

"You're right, we can't." A mirthless smile spread across Elle's face and Sam couldn't stop the chill that flowed down his spine. "But I like to finish what I start. And you'll be dead either way."

Again her hand found its way to his hair. Brushing it from his face, she looked him in the eyes.

"You should have let Sarai take you when she tried."

It was times like this that reminded Sam just how much his poker face sucked. Sam knew that his surprise was written all over his face.

Elle's lips formed a feral smile.

"Oh, we know all about Sarai and her failed attempt to save you and your kin. She never could accept what we have to do to survive and denounced her father because of it. It's a shame too. She has the potential to wield so much power, the ability to access far more than any of her elders—the only one of us born of this earth. Then again, that's why she doesn't have to do what we do. She's special." The words dripped from her lips like venom.

Apparently she wasn't exactly fond of Sarai.

"She didn't tell you, did she? Her parents were of us. Her mother was lost so long ago, but her father…" A look of nostalgia passed over her face. "He had such a pretty face, too bad she didn't inherit more from him." She turned towards her husband. "You know, after we're done here, we should go talk to her. Find her father. Maybe we can reacquaint them, family really should stick together."

"Who are you?"

"Who aren't we? We've been known as many things—the witches that your people are so found of, the immortals your silly TV shows were based on. I think at one point we were seen as deities. That was definitely one of the more pleasing roles. Although I think my favorite would have to be the Gypsies. They were such free spirited, giving, understanding people." She circled behind him, breath warm against his neck as she continued. "We were hunted like wolves, but it was fun."

Suddenly, Elle was once again in his face.

"Do you know what that feels like? To be constantly hunted? To never be able to fully…rest? Always watching your back. Never safe. Never at peace. There was a time on this earth when we didn't worry, when we only feared our creator. Then your kind stepped in. Capturing. Torturing. Killing. Denying us of the chance to be forgiven our trespasses, our sins. Denying us of the one thing we desire most. I think it's only just that your kind be used to obtain our goal."

Obviously, psycho-killer lady was escalating. Which meant he needed to end this somehow, and soon. With Dean out of commission, Sam was going to have to get out of this on his own.

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted the tangential ramblings of the apparent lunatic that was his captor.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Why is it that every bad guy has to give their life story?"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Throw out everything you know about season four and the finale for season three. You know what? Throw out the rest of season three as well. As a matter of fact, this is now AU, ok? It's just…AU. There. Lol. Have fun .

A/N: Just to clarify, there are no true spoilers in this. Simply similar themes.

* * *

At the sound of the voice, Elle whirled around—hand still entangled in Sam's hair—to face the doorway.

And Dean.

Dean, who, despite being nearly comatose not long ago, seemed to be back to his normal self. Right down to the condescending smirk on his face.

"Sam, what did I tell you about starting the fun with out me?"

"You? What? How?" Elle spluttered questions, for once practically speechless.

"Who, when, where, why—I think that about covers it." Dean quipped as he moved into the room.

"So," He clapped his hands together, "Now that Twenty Questions is over, I'll just take my brother and be out of your hair." Dean eyed the location of Elle's hand. "Or you'll be out of his hair. Whatever."

Sam frowned as he realized that Dean had basically entered the belly of the beast with no weapons.

"Dean," Sam started only to be cut off.

"Sammy, say good bye to your girlfriend, we're leaving."

Had his brother not noticed that he was sort of tied up at the moment? He knew the restraints were invisible, but did Dean think he was standing there just for the fun of it?

"Kinda stuck right now, Dean."

Elle removed her hand from Sam's hair, leaving behind a patch of cold where it once lay.

"Leave? But this is your home…"

"Lady, I don't know what yarn you've been spinnin' my brother, but I'd rather live in Love Canal during the Fifties than stay in this place."

Giving a frustrated sigh, Dean turned towards Maros. "Think you could release my brother now? I really want to get this show on the road. You know, things to see, people to do, not necessarily in that order."

When Maros gave no response, Dean groaned.

"I don't have time for this."

Turning his gaze back in Elle and Sam's direction, Dean moved a step closer.

"Look, lady, you're not getting back in. I mean, all the souls in the world can't erase that faux pas from your record. You might as well give it up now."

"You know nothing of which you speak." Elle practically growled at Dean, her body language resembling that of a threatened animal preparing to attack.

As he watched Dean interact with his captors, Sam realized that something was off with his brother. He couldn't figure out what it was, but Dean wasn't exactly himself. It wasn't the fact that Dean was antagonizing Elle—he did that with everyone, despite Sam's constant chastising. Even their dad hadn't been able to break Dean of that habit. No, it was something else. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He watched as his brother truly leveled his gaze at the lone female in the room.

"He clipped your wings. You didn't fall as far as some, but you fell nonetheless."

It was a statement of fact followed by an off-hand remark, and Elle's stance grew rigid as a combination of confusion and fear splayed across her face as Dean spoke.

"What did you say?"

Dean took a step forward, a mockingly chastising look plastered on his face.

"Don't tell me you thought that when God cast you from his kingdom, it was nothing more than a slap on the wrist—a little reprimand to his defiant children?" Dean tsked. "And then, instead of repenting you decided that it was your job to use what He had made for your own selfish gain."

Elle began to back away as Dean sauntered closer.

"Maros, bind him."

Sam felt the pressure on his arms and legs lessen as the man divided his attention between the two brothers.

Dean paused, glancing at his feet before effortlessly continuing forward.

"Sorry sweetheart, that's not His magic, and He's not protecting you anymore." Dean shrugged with one shoulder. "You turned your back on Him and He took his eyes off of you."

Like a cornered creature, Elle suddenly lashed out. Almost faster than Sam's eyes could track, she bodily pinned Dean to the floor.

"I take it you like it rough," Dean grunted, "But I feel kinda awkward with your husband in the room. That and the fact that you're old enough to be Grandma Moses…" Dean barely managed to choke out his sarcasm as Elle applied pressure to his throat.

"I don't know who or what you are, but since I can't have your soul…" her grip on his neck tightened further as she let the sentence hang in the air.

The throaty laugh that rumbled from Dean wasn't exactly the response any of them were expecting.

"No," Dean taunted, his voice becoming half an octave lower as he lifted his head from the floor, "means 'No'."

If not for Maros' concentration, Sam would have fallen over when he saw that his brother's eyes were no longer the vivid greenish brown he'd known since childhood, but were instead a luminescent silver.

Elle's grip on Dean's neck went slack from shock. She scrambled backwards towards Sam as Dean's body rose to a stand.

"What are you?"

"You should have listened when the boy asked for his brother. Then again, you didn't listen when Father warned us of the consequences of insubordination. Why should now be any different?"

"Michael?"

The trepidation coloring Elle's voice filled Sam with guarded hope. If this was the Michael he thought it was, his captors where in for a very one-sided fight.

"In the flesh." Dean's face tilted down in acknowledgement of his body. "Well, in someone else's flesh."

Sam noticed his bindings weakening once again as the lights in the office began flashing.

Silver eyes momentarily looked at the flickering lights before sliding towards the man against the wall.

"Hello, Amaros."

Sam felt his body move when Elle backed into him in her haste to retreat from the being currently inhabiting his brother's body.

"You shouldn't be here. He didn't finish. I—I stopped it."

Michael once again focused on the female whose escape had been hindered by Sam's form.

"Apparently, not soon enough." Michael motioned an arm towards Elle. "I believe you were interrupted earlier. Why don't you finish telling the boy who you really are, _Gadreel_, or are you too ashamed?"

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air seemingly causing it to stretch on for an insurmountable length of time.

Her body still pressed against his, Sam felt Elle tremble. But when she spoke her voice was fire and venom.

"You think we were hunted because we were witches? Or Gypsies? No, we were hunted because we were the Fallen."

"Fallen? As in the angels?" _Holy…Well, that explains some things._

Ignoring Sam's questions, she continued.

"We were punished, banned to live with your kind. Humankind. As soon as He exiled us many of us realized our mistake in blindly following Lucifer. So we distanced ourselves from the other Fallen. We were a legion—a flock—but we've dwindled one by one to such low numbers. Only a handful of us are still on this miserable plane of existence."

"Yes, and after today there will be two less."

_Where the hell did that come from?_

In a manner reminiscent of the immortals from one of the few TV shows Dean and Sam managed to both enjoy, a gleaming sword suddenly occupied Michael's current right hand. Smoothly, he drew nearer to Gadreel, providing Sam with a better view of the intricately marked sword. The engravings were like nothing he'd ever come across, but he could sense the power emanating from the sword itself and he had a feeling that the designs were more about containing power rather than amplifying it.

The closer Michael came, the more insolent Gadreel became. And more brainless, if you asked Sam.

Chin jutted forward in defiance, she snarled.

"We have done nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong? You listened to the lies of the serpent tongue. You believed in him and you followed him as you should have Father. You angered Him. You disappointed Him. So He sent me."

Now mere centimeters from Gadreel's face, Michael questioned, "Who do you wish to serve?"

A moment passed in hesitant silence.

"Our Father."

A hand shot up, grabbing her face by the chin, pulling it slightly closer to Michael as he leaned further in.

"You should have thought that way before you betrayed Him."

Sam knew that only a few minutes passed after that, but it felt like hours of having Gadreel pressed so firmly against him, Michael never relinquishing his hold, never changing position. Statuesque.

So Sam couldn't help but be startled when Michael once again spoke.

"I am sorry, Amaros."

No movement from anywhere other than his mouth, Michael's eyes stayed focused on Gadreel's as he continued. "You were always one of my favorites. Like a little brother. If only you hadn't strayed so far."

Suddenly, Michael was no longer near Gadreel. Instead he stood half-way across the room, directly in front of Amaros, sword arcing towards him in a beautiful deadly sweep. As the sword completes the journey through its intended victim, Amaros disappears.

It happens so fast, neither Gadreel nor Sam has the time to prepare for the lack of support once Amaros' bindings disappear.

Falling to the floor, Sam shoves Gadreel and shuffles backwards, away from his former captor as Michael approaches her once again.

Maybe she's decided to stand her ground. Perhaps she knows there's no escape. Chances are she could just be in shock. Either way, everyone is aware of the tremors of fear in her frame as she scrambles to her feet, watching Michael in apprehension.

"We were only doing what we were forced to do."

"No one forced you. This was by your on hand." He shook his head. "You didn't think that Father was going to reopen His house to you, did you?" Michael nodded in Sam's direction. "He granted them forgiveness, not you."

"But He would have, had you not banished Amaros! We have been cleansing ourselves of our sin. What we were doing was just."

"Just!?" Michael thundered, the resonance of his voice almost deafening to Sam as he continued to watch the scene play out. "Every soul you've forcibly taken from its natural place was marred. Your kind has caused more harm than any of the other Fallen. Half of our battles are in retrieving those souls and repairing them before Lucifer's followers can touch them, bring them to their side and increase their numbers. For every soul they get, their forces multiply by a thousand. You've caused enough bloodshed in this war, and you're one pawn I'll gladly be rid of."

"I am not a part of your war. I will not be punished."

He chuckled, a warm, _frightening_ sound.

"You're wrong, it's Father's war and His war is everyone's war." Eyes locked on hers, he twirls the sword nimbly in his hand. "But it's not like you didn't know. You chose sides the moment you decided to follow the Light Bearer to the Accuser."

"He tricked us!"

"No one tricked you. It was nobody's fault but your own."

"Pride was his downfall. He was so proud that he couldn't see what Father had given him. He was so proud that he had to change his name. You should have changed your name as well because He stopped helping you long ago."

"We've been here eons upon eons, why is it that you've just come to us now if it is truly His will that we be destroyed."

"Who said I was to destroy you? I'm sending you to valley with the rest of your kind. You'll see judgment when the time arrives. As for the timing? This is the first body to come along with a spirit strong enough to house me." Michael rolled Dean's shoulders and continued with a feral grin. "I was commanded to make sure that Lucifer and his followers learned their lessons, and I always follow my orders."

The lustrous sword arced once more, its course now intersecting with Gadreel's immobile body. In an instant, like Amaros, she too was gone.

Just as it had inexplicably appeared, the sword vanished as well.

From his position on the floor, Sam then found himself the recipient of Michael's unnerving gaze.

"You're possessing my brother?"

"Don't worry, Samuel. It's nothing like what happened to you. Being possessed by an angel isn't like being possessed by a demon. Demons force themselves into their hosts, ripping parts of their souls from their rightful places. When angels are invoked, we slowly filter in, taking up only the spaces surrounding the soul, leaving it completely intact. We actually mend a few tears while we're in there."

As if sensing Sam's uncertainty, Michael added, "But that is only done if the vessel's spirit is strong enough to survive the additional presence. So don't worry, Dean is fine."

"Can I ask one more thing?"

Michael tilted Dean's head to the side in silent consent.

"Why did God grant humans forgiveness, but not the fallen? I mean, they were His angels, right?"

"Yes, they were His angels. As His angels we walk a very fine line. Like you we were created, we have free will. And like you, our sins do not go unpunished."

"But what makes us so different? What happens if we fall? If I fall?"

"We were given life, but not souls. That's the difference, Samuel." His smile put Sam at ease.

"Everyone falls. The blessed ones are allowed to get back up." Michael extended a hand to Sam, pulling him to his feet. "The lucky ones have people to help them get back up."

The moment Sam was firmly on his feet, Dean swayed and the brilliant silver faded from his eyes, leaving behind the familiar hazel now clouded with confusion.

"Sammy?"

Dean's eyes rolled back and Sam caught him before he fell.

***

A few hours later, after a pretty colorful display of rousing Dean and explaining what had happened and then stumbling over what was apparently everything they owned in their room, which was promptly followed by a few choice words from Dean, the brothers had begun the arduous task of prepping to get out of dodge and leave the Jupiter Inn and Prattville in the dust.

"Are you sure you're up to leaving?"

Dean looked at his brother as he threw a dirty shirt into his duffle.

"Sam, I'm good. I'm more than good. I guess Mike must've done something to fix me up, man, 'cuz I feel awesome."

"His name is Michael, Dean."

"Well, after he decided to hop his happy angelic ass inside of me, I'm thinking the whole respect thing kinda flew out the window there."

Sam held his hands up, palms facing Dean. "Mike it is then. But, you know, I did kind of invoke him so..."

"Exactly!" Dean flung a hand in Sam's direction as he walked out the door. "You asked for him to come down here, not me. He should have worn you like a suit."

"Whatever, man." Sam grabbed his laptop and followed his brother. "Actually, I take that back. Technically, it is your fault. If you had just taken care of yourself, we wouldn't have been here in the first place."

"And those freak shows would still be sucking lives from people. Not really a deterrent, Sam."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Who cares? All I know is that if I'd stopped earlier, you wouldn't have found the crazies and more people would be getting ganked." Dean shrugged. "So my head felt like it was going to explode for a few hours, it's not like we get out of most hunts pain free." He dropped his duffle at Sam's feet before heading back into the room.

Sam shook his head in reluctant amusement as he watched his brother cross over the room's threshold.

Some things never changed, and apparently Dean fell into that category.

A few moments passed in silence as the brothers continued packing their stuff in the Impala.

Surveying the massive quantity of crap they lugged around everywhere, Sam didn't quite understand how all of their stuff had ended up out of the car and in their room. The best he could figure was that the Amaros and Gadreel had moved it for whatever reason. He knew that he hadn't brought it in and he was pretty sure that Dean hadn't touched anything since Michael had walked in seemingly empty handed.

His silent ponderings were soon interrupted.

"You know, there was one thing I wanted to ask the old girl before Mike destroyed her."

"What?"

"How long did it take her to heal?"

Sam stalled in arranging their duffle bags to fit in the trunk and gave his brother a quizzical look.

In turn, Dean responded with a smirk. "'Cuz that fall had to hurt."

"Shut up, Dean."

"No, seriously. I mean, maybe it didn't hurt physically, but, dude, there's no way it didn't wound her ego. Or Lucy's for that matter."

"Lucy?" Sam's brow furrowed in confusion before realization took hold. "Now you're referring to Lucifer as Lucy?"

"Hell yeah. He got his ass handed to him in the world's biggest smack down all because he wanted some attention. Sounds like a pansy to me, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes before opening the passenger door and climbing into the Impala. He wasn't going to argue with Dean over something that was so obviously irrelevant. Especially when he wasn't sure if he agreed with him or not. He had to admit, though, his brother was right about one thing.

Falling from that far up? It was bound to leave some bruises.

* * *

So, this is the end. Hope you enjoyed it. Hopefully, I'll start a new story soon. C'ya around!


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